Megan: The Imprinted
by ayeyonicole
Summary: We've thought about it; the reason Jacob & Bella could NEVER work out. Bella isn't his imprinter. So...Who is? When Megan Parker comes to Forks, her life is suddenly entangled with the Cullens, Bella, & of course..the Blacks. Meet Megan. This is her story
1. Chapter 1

**1.**

"You're going to love it here, trust me."

Trust her? Was this her way of earning my trust? I didn't want to be here, in this city. I looked up at the sky through my foggy passenger seat window to see nothing but only hopeless, gray skies. Dreary clouds hung above me, and I only had but one thought.  
This is the end of the world.

My mother continued to brief me on the minor details of Forks, a small, pit town in Washington. I couldn't imagine anyone intentionally wanting to live here, where houses were miles apart and trees caved in around you. Was I supposed to be safe here? Before too long, I become lost in the lush grass passing by in the window and her words started joining together. It became a jumble of "I'm sorries", "its better this way", and "he won't find you."

"He won't find you." She repeated, only this time she turned to look me in my eyes and I took every detail of her with me. Her light, honey-blonde hair tossed into effortless spirals around her heart-shaped face, making her the envy of any angel. Her tan skin served her no justice under the cloudy sky, but it was her soft blue eyes I remember best. They were old. The deeper I looked the more pain shot out from them, multiplied by age. If mothers know best, why did this feel so wrong?  
"I promise you. . . He won't."  
I thought she might reach out to me, grabbing one of my hands and giving me her light smile I knew her best for. Instead, she gripped both her hands tightly around the wheel. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I turned back to the window when I realized we had reached our destination.

It had been a little over three years since I had last seen my grandmother's lofty, aged farm house. We had come for a visit the week before my thirteenth birthday and I had been extremely hasty on my decision for a trip back. I gave out a loud sigh, making sure my mother had heard it before I pushed the car door open and plopped my feet onto the gravel.  
My grandmother shot out from the front door and in no time forced her arms around me in an awkward bear hug. Awkward because I was nearly two feet taller than her.

"My oh my! Megan, darling, you get any taller and you'll need a new bed!"  
Ha-ha. Clever sense of humor grandma.  
I turned my attention to the farm house as my mother and grandmother passed mushy family greetings to my left. It was an old house, that much was obvious, but somehow well-kept. It was bright with fresh, white paint and two-stories high, chimney smoke streaming out of the roof to complete the post-card view. With both my suitcases already in their hands, my oh-so-polite elders ushered me inside, due to a brewing storm above us. Surprise there. This was all one big storm.

"You remember where the guest room is, hun?" My grandmother asked. I nodded my head and began up the stairs. I was almost amused by how quickly their topics changed from weather to _him_. The reason I was here.

"Oh Ellen, I'm so sorry," my grandmother began, "this isn't your fault. It's no one's but his. Henry is a bad man, you know this. This isn't your fault. This isn't your fault."

I had stopped on the tenth step for a little detour eavesdropping. My grandmother was now wrapped around my mother, one of them sobbing.  
"The divorce will be final next week and you can both let the demon go in your lives. This will be good for her. She can start over." She stopped talking after that. I don't know exactly how long we all stood there. My grandma and my mother, entangled in a sympathetic hug, and me, crouching on the stairs, unnoticed. I managed my way up the rest of the stair without sounds and collapsed on the soft mattress waiting for me. I buried my face in the cotton, trying to absorb the tears that hadn't escaped yet. Memories of lovely evening with my father, playing Monopoly and eating celery sticks had been replaced by disastrous nights with his newly found infatuation with a stash of whiskey, unknown to me and my mother. Celery sticks become angry words and Don't Pass Go cards became unmistakable bruises. Before too long, daddy dearest and his whiskey started creating hospital bills neither of us wanted to explain.

"I'm leaving, Megan." My mother echoed from the doorway. She stood there, blankly staring at me with a tired face. I rose from the twin-sized bed and wrapped my arms around her. "I'm going to miss you." She said. Understatement. She was going to hate New York without me.  
"I'm going to miss you, too."  
After what seemed like forever, I was waving at her through the windshield of her red Ford Liberty.  
It felt slightly like freedom.  
It was the end of the world.

When night finally strolled around, I made myself comfortable under the light sheets of my new bed. New, in a sense I'd never slept in it. The bed itself was far from new. My grandmother came in and flicked the ceiling fan on. I watched it spin to my life over my body. "I've already gotten you enrolled for school, so you can start first thing tomorrow, if you're ready, that is."

I wasn't looking forward to a new school, with new people, in such a new yet familiar place. "That's fine." I responded. My words don't really connect with my brain too well.

Before I knew it, I was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Have you ever woken up to the morning, peeled your eyes open and realized the night was escaping into day, only to feel like you had been asleep only five minutes?  
Good morning, Megan! Ha-ha. No.

Glancing over at the clock by my bedside, it occurred to me it was almost six am. I rose from the sheets and scooted my way across the hall, into the bathroom like a zombie. I turned my eyes to my half-wall mirror looming over the sink and was startled by what I saw.

I was a stranger.

I was still Megan, but there was something else behind my dark green eyes. Something not even I could place. For a second, I felt as if Forks has something in store for me. Was my grandmother right?  
Could I start over?

I retreated to my room and chose a dark red button-down sweater, with a faded pair of jeans from my suitcase. I dressed in a trance, then returned to the bathroom to brush my shoulder-length blonde hair out. My hair strongly resembled my mother's in color, but lacked her lovely defined curls. The phrase _Plain Jane_ came to mind. With one last glance in the mirror at the new girl I'd has somehow become, I threw the door open at the sight of my grandmother.

Her eyes grew wide and her hand went to her chest. "Good lord, Megan! You nearly gave me a heart-attack!" She laughed.

"Sorry." I said timidly.  
"Well, are you ready, dear?"  
"Yep."

She looked me up and down, placing a smile on her small, oval face. She guided me out to her car; a somewhat beat-up, black truck I didn't recognize. The engine roared to life and before I knew it, I was on my way to hell—school.  
I couldn't drive yet—I was sixteen, the youngest legal age for driving—and driving wasn't really necessary in New York. I was use to subway stations and long walks to school. I bounced along in the passenger seat, enjoying the peaceful ride, listening to my grandmother hum along silently with the radio to an old country tune. The drive to Forks High School took no-less than six minutes from her house.  
She turned to me and gave me a cross-seat goodbye hug.  
"See you after school. I'll be in the same place." She said.  
"Okay, thanks."  
"Good luck, dear."

With one last smile-and-wave from my grandmother, I turned and prepared to face my doom.  
It was almost as appalling as I thought it would be.

Forks High School was small; not microscopic, but at least 1/5 the size of my old high school outside of Manhattan. It was already busy with people, shuffling through the parking lot like tiny, mindless insects. With a deep, relentless sigh, I approached the school grounds. An old, rust colored red truck caught my eye. I expected an unruly teenage boy with uncombed hair to pop out from the driver's seat, but I had misjudged the truck. A small, frail looking girl with dark brown hair stumbled out of the seat and, with effort, slammed the door shut behind her. She had on a long, tan jacket, which appeared to be two sizes too large for her petite figure. I watched her for a moment. A sudden smile curved onto her pink lips as she approached the building. I turned my attention to the one she was wrapping her arms around.  
He was drop-dead, absolutely gorgeous.  
I'd never seen a boy so appealing, yet so light-skinned. His hair shone a bronze-brown, even in the cloudy sky. He gave the girl a sort-of crooked smile before she stood on her toes to reach up and kiss him.  
An almost equally as gorgeous girl next to the boy whispered something in the small girl's ear and danced off into the school. There was something divine about her steps; the way her short, brown hair didn't move and she walked—almost dancing. The other two trailed after her, hand in hand, until they disappeared behind the doors.  
I was spellbound for a moment, though I can't quite explain why. It just appeared to be a typical relationship. I followed them into the school and took a turn when I saw the office.  
See, I always hated going into the office at school. The only reasons I had ever gotten called down consisted of phone calls from my mother and early dismissal for dentist appointments. I'd gone down one or twice in elementary for an upset stomach, only to come face-to-face with an unappealing nurse who ate far too much for her meals. I stepped in, whipped in the face with the smell of brewing coffee and the sound of ringing phones, busy teachers, and livid students. I scanned the long, wooden desk and settled for the first sane-looking woman I spotted.


End file.
